Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of Conley And Billy (the Proof's In The Picken')

Screamin whitewall tires and a guitar by his
Billys got the fever as he rolls on the night
Some born to listen, some were born to play
He was lightning on the and thunder on the bass

He play it high, he could play it low
He could make it cry, he could make it
He knows push comes to shove
The proofs in the

In a smoky little tavern off of Bourbon Street
Tobacco stained fingers waited on the down
was the master, the undisputed king
Hed ruled the town for thirty years with an of six strings

He could it high, he could play it low
He could make it cry, he could make it
He when push comes to shove
The proofs in the

Sometimes midnight, Billy drives through New Orleans
to the French Quarter, theres a man he has to see
The music is a raging like a thats on fire
felt just like an altar boy at the feet of a higher power

Conley as Billy walked across the room
his case and started a tune
The whole was silent and the lights were turned down low
Billy up on the stage and Conley whispered, Go, son, go

He could play it high, he could it low
He could make it cry, he could make it
He when push comes to shove
The in the pickin

Conley held his up, no one made a sound
And he handed Bill his old archtop and into the crowd
Billy played it soft, Billy it sad
Then he made it and in came the band

Soon the room was
Billys wall of sound
And just a off Bourbon Street
A new been crowned

He could play it high, he play it low
He make it cry, he could make it moan
He knows push comes to shove
The in the pickin